Of Secrets and Struggles
by ClockworkCadence
Summary: A half-Shinigami. An abomination that nobody could ever know about. Yet as requested by her childhood friend L, she joins the task force and puts her secret, and her life, at risk. Things would be so easy if she knew her limits, if she could just tell everyone who Kira really was. Was she bound by Shinigami rules, despite part of her being human? Any wrong move could be her last...
1. Prologue

Well, it's been a long while since I've written anything, so I hope you enjoy the story. ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, but I do own my OC!

_**The italics are from the father's letter, just to clear up any confusion.**_

* * *

_Prologue_

Vibrations coursed through cold metal, reverberating into the faded wood beneath it, causing the noise to amplify. The sound was harsh yet rhythmic, like a clockwork heartbeat that could never hold the warmth and comfort of a heart filled with blood and life. It was a strong pulse, considering it caused quite the raucous in the silent room, yet despite this it was weak, not moving its surroundings let alone its container. This was a relatively insignificant occurrence, yet keen ears noticed its existence, icy blue eyes locking onto the source.

A wave of fond memory and a feeling of friendship washed over a perplexed mind as a porcelain hand grasped the pulsing metal, faded pink lips pressing together in curiosity. Of all the people…

"L?" A gentle voice wondered aloud after answering the call, ice blue absentmindedly scanning the hotel room with its pristine white walls and linens, noting a few possessions that still needed to be packed back up before they would be unpacked again in their temporary home. "I'll be there in a little, okay? Sorry, I guess I'm running a bit late, huh?"

"Oh no, take your time," A monotone voice with just the smallest hint of animation filtered through the phone, familiar still after all these years. "I wasn't contacting you about that. I want to reiterate some truths that you must understand before you can begin working with us; I'm sure you can understand my concerns."

"I told you, L, I'm perfectly fine with doing this." A pale hand ran through blood red hair in exasperation, pointed feet beginning to pace across the soft carpet impatiently. "Yes, I know I could die. Yes, I know I'll be working endlessly. Yes, I know all of the repercussions and consequences of my decision, so please, don't worry so much. You're the one that asked me to help with the investigation, after all."

"Very well then, as long as you're prepared for this." There was a slight pause, but it spoke volumes of what he was thinking. He was having second thoughts. He was almost worried. "It's good to be working with you again; it's been a long while."

A small smile bloomed like a spring flower, radiant despite its little stature. Emotionless even when he's happy, did that man's voice ever change anymore? "It has been. I'll see you soon."

The phone returned to its original position on the table as its owner flitted about the room, not quite focusing on actions as much as thoughts. Not much had been taken out of the suitcase the night prior, so the process of getting ready to leave took no amount of brainpower, leaving an excited mind time to wander. The idea of seeing L again, the details of the investigation, yet without meaning to, happy thoughts transitioned into worry, slipping into darker corners that never saw light like the image of friends dying and a secret that clung to an innocent back like a toddler to its mother's leg. A secret that created a constant unsettling feeling like black slime oozing and slithering its way down bare skin.

A breath was held as a mirror was passed on the way to the door, causing tired feet to pause and shift. Ice chips focused on an image in contempt, staring into the cold look reflected back along with the rest of the horror associated with its physical appearance. Despite being used to seeing this, the blood within the real body burned yet froze every time.

She was Destirome DeCrez—a hidden monster.

Sure, everyone else saw her how she had seen herself, many years ago. A normal human, just a small, pale girl that was just a bit different from the rest of the world, yet without knowing just what it was that made her apart from the others. Maybe it was her blood red hair that was oddly enough natural, framing her porcelain skin with gentle waves that cascaded down just below her strong shoulders. Perhaps it was her ice blue eyes that seemed to pierce through everything and everybody no matter how gentle or how harsh they were at the time. Maybe it was her many eccentricities that made her seem a bit too different from everyone around her. Perhaps it could even be the oval scars on her back, as if she had been born with wings, but they had been cut off and the stubs had been crudely burned.

Or maybe her wings were still there.

What if her wings, black yet tattered, still remained on her back? What if ebony horns, short yet pointed, sprouted from her head as if she were a demon? What if faded white linen was wound around her arms, suggesting the start of her mummification as if she were dead? And what if her hands looked like they had been crudely attached to her forearms with thick metal staples embedded in her skin like sadistic patchwork?

That's what she saw, anyway. That's what her true form was. The nightmare began when she had touched her father's black notebook. Her own personal hell of seeing the true monster she was, buried in the images of names and lifespans everywhere she looked, realizing with a creeping horror as she read a letter within the notebook just where her mother was, what her father had been and done, and what that made her.

Half Shinigami.

* * *

_I loved her._

_Watching her from the Shinigami realm every day, dreaming of one day meeting her. I admired her courage through all of her adversities. I adored her pale, blind eyes that seemed to pierce through a person's very soul. I smiled each and every time I heard her vibrant, Sunday flower laugh, as if it bloomed everywhere in the deepest crevices of my heart like a weed with the sweetest of blessings. Your mother was truly a captivating person, and she would have been a wonderful lover to any man of her choice._

_But I was selfish. And I wanted her._

_So I learned her written language, translating the instructions of my Death Note into braille, and I went to the human world._

_And there she was—Eliane DeCrez. Your mother was even more breathtaking in person. Wind blew around her dark brown hair as she sat in her favorite park, reading a book with her hand delicately tracing over each set of bumps on the page, her head up, enjoying the sun on her face. She was always such a carefree woman. I'm sure she would have loved to play with you in that park._

_I knew despite her angelic and defenseless look, she had the heart of a warrior, and a mind filled with vengeance. All of those people that bullied her, the thieves, the con-men, the rude and distasteful people that only picked on her because they were too ignorant to understand her, all because they were curious beings that tested the limits of what they would never experience. She was a kind being, but given the power to punish them, she would without hesitation. _

_I wanted to protect her, so very much. I wanted to give her my power so she would be able to end her suffering. So I knocked the book out of her hands, and I picked it up from the ground to replace it with my Death Note. _

_Her unseeing eyes flashed with annoyance, assuming someone had passed by and decided it would be funny to torment her. A small sigh passed her lips as she bent over, feeling around the lush grass until her hand touched a book that didn't quite feel like hers. Curiously, she opened it, and to her surprise, she felt words as she passed her hand over it, but it wasn't the words she had been reading at all. No, it was something much more…_

_I remember feeling so nervous, I wasn't sure what she would do in reaction to the new book or to me being around. I still remember choking out, "Hello, Eliane. I am Sevren". Of course, I was too blinded by my love for her to really consider the consequences of any of my actions._

_And so it began. Her curiosity to try to kill someone eventually rid her of all of her antagonists as she used her slate and stylus to write names in that unique way she always did. No matter the language, the Death Note understood._

_We became close. She assumed I was her guardian angel; I guided her and helped her through everyday tasks, I always cared for her and was always a friend to her. I wanted to do anything I could for her._

_That's why she fell in love with me as I had for her. She told me I was her friend, her mentor, her protector, her guide, her partner. She knew that I wasn't human, she had felt my skin before and could tell with certainty that I was nothing like her, but something so trivial hadn't mattered to her—I remember what she used to always tell me. "You still have a soul and a heart like a human. You're here, you're real, and you love me. And I love you. That's all that matters, Sevren."_

_Destirome, I hope when you're old enough, you'll find someone to love. They don't have to be perfect, but I hope that you both will accept and love each other past any and all flaws that you both have. You should make each other happy, and fight against anything that tries to separate you two. I want you two to be best friends just as much as you are lovers. I want you to have a connection with them that is beyond anything you've ever had. Most of all, I just want you to live a long and happy life together, and enjoy every moment of life you have. Tend to your relationships well, and they'll bloom more than you ever thought they could. You reap what you sow, after all._

_My days with your mother were the best of my long, long life. But I could still see her lifespan, and her day to die was coming soon. I was too distracted by my happiness with her in the present to wonder what would kill her in the future._

_I was happy, for once in my life. I wasn't about to let anything ruin it. But nothing lasts forever, Destirome. Nothing._


	2. Imprisonment

The plot will generally follow the anime's plot-line for a while, so bear with the regurgitation of events. ._.

Same as before, the italic parts are from Destirome's father's letter. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, obviously.

* * *

Luggage rumbled as it rolled along on tattered wheels on the sidewalk as Destirome dragged it along behind her, her eyes avoiding the people around her, the names and lifespans floating around endlessly, a typical part of her normal vision, as if it could be normal to see such an anomaly above everyone. It was distracting, and above all, an awful thing to know. Every time she saw her friends, there was always a constant reminder of when she would lose them above their heads. The letter her father left her in his notebook told her everything, including how to translate the numbers into human time. It was always especially difficult if the date was close; it wasn't like she could follow her friend everywhere that day, and even if she did, was it against the rules for her to stop their death because she was part Shinigami, even without using the Death Note?

Not like she ever would use it. The accursed thing brought only misery to everyone around it, especially her. There were so many things that her father had known about it, and she had learned a lot about its operation and what rules a Shinigami must follow from the letter he had left her. Yet she was neither human nor Shinigami entirely—would the rules still fully apply?

She ran a hand through her hair in exasperation as she halted in front of a tall building, her eyes tracing the shining glass windows. Nerves twisted in her stomach like writhing maggots, chewing holes into her until nothing remained. The last time she had seen L, she was still a normal human, completely unaware of her other side. He was always brilliantly perceptive, and she could never hide anything from him; what if he deduced what she was? Then again, she always had her Shinigami side, she could just never see it. Maybe he really wouldn't notice.

As Destirome walked up the many flights of stairs, her mind wandered to the day she had seen herself for the first time. She was leaving for her university, starting a new chapter in her life. Nostalgically, she went back to her old home, abandoned for years since her parents died.

* * *

_Our fatal mistake was years later, when a moment of shy affection turned into a blissful, passionate night of something much more. Eliane became pregnant, and everything went downhill from there._

_She died during childbirth. A half Shinigami baby wasn't completely compatible with a fully human body, and it caused her to bleed to death. I think it might have been mostly the horns that caused many internal wounds. I'm amazed she stayed alive through the entire pregnancy, honestly. _

_The whole time, I was helpless. I panicked; I didn't know what to do. I don't think there was anything I could have done, now. We couldn't have gone to a hospital; what if you were born with visible Shinigami aspects, even to humans? The doctors would think your mother birthed a demon and then you would have probably been taken away for scientific analysis. We both didn't want that for you, and it was much too risky. We didn't know how Shinigami and human genes would mix, and what that would result in. You could have been born completely invisible to everyone that had never touched your nonexistent Death Note, for all we knew. I tried so hard to deliver you and save your mother at the same time, but I guess it didn't matter. Her fate was sealed. But you were still supposed to live on._

_Your mother held you after you were born, Destirome. I gave you to her as soon as you were safely out. She wrapped her weak arms around you so she could hold you for the first and last time, and then she died with you in her arms. She was smiling still. I remember she used to always want a girl if she ever had a family. You were a dream come true to her._

_Her grave is outside our house in the garden that she always tended to. The day I buried her the flowers looked wilted as if the part of her living inside them had died too. Lately you've been talking to your mother's grave as if she's still here. Just today you told her your favorite color was blue and you told her a story about a butterfly you saw. The flowers haven't looked wilted since you began talking to her. You still make her happy, wherever she is._

_I tried to take care of you as best I could, but even though I lived with your mother for years, there were still plenty of things I didn't know about taking care of humans, especially babies. I can only hope that you think of me as an adequate father. I'm not sure of how you feel towards me at the current moment, or what you think happened to me, but I want you to know what really happened to me, or at least at the time that I'm writing this, what will happen. _

_Being with your mother and having sexual relations is against the rules where I come from, and the punishment is death. I know I can't keep you a secret forever. The other Shinigami will find out about you, and when that happens, I'll be killed and you'll be left alone, or worse… _

_I hope you remembered the phone number that I left near the phone. You were a smart little girl, I'm sure you remembered all those times that I told you that if you ever found yourself alone, to call that number. Watari was one of your mother's friends and taught her how to read and write when she lost her vision. I'm sure he took good care of you._

* * *

Honestly, she had never seen her father when she was growing up. He had kept his Death Note hidden, along with the letter, waiting for when she was old enough to know and understand everything. She had never touched his Note, and even though she was a part of him, she still could never see him. However, his voice could be heard. Destirome spent her early years being cared for by floating objects and a voice coming from nowhere. It was never unsettling or strange to her, though; that was what she had known all her life, so it seemed normal.

When she arrived at her home before going to her university, she just wanted to remember her family and visit her mother's grave, maybe take an item or two for memories. It was when she was searching for a picture of her mother that she found a black notebook, wrapped in plastic. Curious hands pulled it out, finding rules in Braille to the side, and a few folded pages stuck inside.

A picture fell to the dusty wood floor. A smiling woman, with blank eyes and dark brown hair that glowed with warmth in the sunlight. Her name was printed on the back: Eliane DeCrez.

It wasn't until she reached the last word of her father's letter and had stared in shocked contemplation at his unique handwriting for several minutes that she broke down, running into the bathroom to stare into the mirror in horror at herself—the self that she had been all along, but now the truth was laid plainly in front of her eyes since she touched her father's Death Note.

She was a monster, but so was her father. Was it really that bad? No, she was accepting of her form, for the most part, because even though her father had been the same, he was still so kind and loving. A monster could only be a monster on the inside—physical appearances meant nothing. Her appearance disturbed her, yes, but it was the fact that she had lived a lie all her life that made her cry and hold her head in her hands helplessly. It was the idea that she was stuck between existences and had no idea what rules to follow, it was the idea of unseen beings constantly monitoring her, waiting for a moment where she'd screw up or they'd suddenly deem her a broken rule and kill her. It was the idea of uncertainty that scared her the most.

Therefore, the moniker of monster came to symbolize not her appearance, but her future, all of the uncertainty and danger that lurked in plain sight, not even needing to hide in the shadows or in the unforgotten corners of her life. It was a threat out in the open daylight, and it was wiser to fear that which is unafraid to be seen, because that meant it was confident. It knew the damage it could do. There was the threat of the Shinigami King deciding whether to keep her alive or kill her, the threat of someone discovering what she was, the threat of whether or not she could bend or break the Shinigami rules—all it took was one wrong move or someone else with a Death Note, and there would be a ton of trouble.

Yet as she knocked on the door, giving a moment to breathe before she stepped into the main room to meet everyone and looked around at her new co-workers, her heart stopped.

Yes, there would be a ton of trouble, indeed.

Her eyes hadn't fixated on L, no matter how relieving it was to see him again after so long. Her eyes weren't even focused on any of her new colleagues. No, the ice in her eyes burned into the letters above a certain Light Yagami's head. Just the letters—there were no numbers. He had no lifespan visible to her.

He had a Death Note.

Trying to act normal despite her heart beating in her throat, her gaze nonchalantly glided over everyone once again before trailing to L's face, trying her best to ignore the danger of the situation as she pasted a slight smile onto her face. She just walked in and already she could be killed. Did L know he was working with a potential murderer? Was this Light guy actually Kira? Where was his Shinigami?

"L, thank you for inviting me here. It's good to see you again." She turned to the rest of the group, bowing slightly. "I'm Rome DeCaria. I'll be working with you all from now on." An alias she had thought up on the spot, made from L's nickname for her and her psychology professor's last name. She had figured she could trust the task force with her real identity, but knowing that there was someone with a Death Note that would now only need her name… she couldn't risk it, whether he would ever think of killing her or not.

But could a Death Note even kill her? Shinigami couldn't die from having their names written in a Death Note, did that apply to her at all? It was too risky to find out.

As each man in turn introduced himself, her eyes focused intently on their body language, trying to assess the mood of the place and the relations between the task force. Most of them seemed to genuinely be glad to have another person there to help with their investigation, apparently having high hopes for her. If she was L's friend and he wanted her to come, she must be pretty brilliant. Everyone seemed to be accepting of her—except prime suspect number one, of course.

Light's kindness would have fooled most people, but she knew better. It seemed forced, and his eyes were cold and calculating, probably trying to tell just how much of a threat she was. He didn't like the idea of having someone new around. While everyone else saw it as a good thing that L had asked her to come, he saw it as just another person that was highly capable of finding out who Kira was, who he was, if he was actually Kira. Who knew, it could be a coincidence that a man with a Death Note was here with the task force when there was a mass murderer that killed mainly with a heart attack, the default death of a Death Note, on the loose and hadn't been caught by people that were more than capable of doing so, but honestly, there was nothing more obvious. All of these deaths were because of a Death Note, and he just so happened to have one.

Maybe there was another person with a Death Note nearby, but what were the odds? Only seven Death Notes could be functional in the human world at a time. Could there really be three—Light's, someone else's, and hers inherited from her father that she kept with her for safekeeping—all in the same general area?

"So, how did you meet L anyway, Rome?" Matsuda's voice tore Destirome from her thoughts, her eyes trailing away from the wall to his face, a smile brightening her features as she looked at innocently curious man.

"We lived in the same orphanage as kids." In her peripheral vision, she could see L stiffen—he still never liked to talk about his past, let alone have other people talk about it around him. Her words stopped there, though, knowing L wouldn't want her to continue—she could have told the full story, of how the two of them were both outcasts even in their temporary home, of how one day as she watched another strange kid like her get bullied, she promptly walked over and punched the two antagonists in the face. Granted, she had gotten in trouble for it and had to wash the dishes for a two weeks as punishment, but the kid she had saved had quietly come to her aid and helped her through the mountains of dishes, and they've been best friends since.

"Ah, you both don't have a family?" Matsuda seemed empathetic, the slight surprise in his eyes replaced with understanding. "That's really too bad, but at least you have each other. And you two stayed in contact for that long? Man, I'm a little jealous." He tried to lighten the mood at least, and for that, Destirome was grateful.

"It's nothing to be jealous over, some friendships are just meant to last that long, while others aren't. Besides, you could be more fortunate in other aspects, such as having a family whereas we don't," She reasoned, walking over near the large blank screen with pointed toes, about to take a seat next to L's chair, when she paused, noticing a small object on the seat. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a lollipop, laying plainly like an offering to her. L had known she'd sit there and had given a small but subtle token of appreciation to her; a sort of welcoming gift. Porcelain hands took off the wrapper and brought the lollipop to her mouth, a smile tracing over her lips. Green apple. He still knew her favorite flavor.

"So, care to fill me in on some more details of the Kira case, anyone?" Destirome spoke around the lollipop in her mouth, relaxing into the chair as she looked curiously around the dark room, tapping her foot on the ground absentmindedly. "L didn't tell me much about it yet. All I know is that someone can kill with just a name and a face, typically by means of a heart attack, and they're obviously somewhere here in Japan." Honestly, she knew quite a bit more about the case than that, but she was hoping that she would see who was willing to explain, hoping to get some sort of reaction that she could read into from anyone.

"Currently we suspect a second Kira, one that can kill with only a face," L reasoned, taking a sip of his coffee. She pressed her lips together as she watched him—she knew he still must drown his beverages in sugar, no wonder the man could never sleep. He seriously needed to take better care of himself. Yet her mind snapped back to his words as she fully processed them, realizing it was a new piece of information as she stiffened in the chair. Another Death Note? Someone with the eyes, too?

She had assumed the first Kira didn't have the eyes considering his pattern. Now that there were two Kiras instead of one, Light was definitely one of them, without any shred of doubt. But which one? The one with the eyes, or without? He hadn't reacted in any way to her fake name, was that genuine naivety or could he hide his thoughts that well? Whoever the second Kira was, Destirome knew that she could never be seen by them. Their eyes would see that she had no lifespan, and she would either be recruited into killing with the Kiras or she would be eliminated as soon as possible for being too much of a threat, if she could even be killed, since she was friends with L and thus not likely to betray him, plus she knew the secrets of the Death Note, which were key to finding the culprits. Most likely the second option would occur.

"Light is suspected to be the original Kira, as well." L noted, making Mr. Yagami stiffen as Light strangely enough lowered his head. Destirome calmed a bit; at least she was seen by the one without the eyes.

"Ryuzaki… I feel like you might be right… I could… be Kira." Light's voice sounded drained of all emotion as he stared calmly at L. It felt there should be fire in his words, denial, but his tone was oddly enough devoid of any anger, any indignation, leaving a strange, heavy gap in the atmosphere from his simple compliance. L turned his head to look at Light, a small hint of surprise tracing his features at this revelation. Destirome shifted in her chair, staring incredulously at the boy. She comes all the way here and the case is already solving itself? No, it wouldn't be that simple. Kira's killed hundreds of people, he wouldn't suddenly have a conscience.

"No, Light, what are you saying? Don't do this to yourself! Why would you even consider this?" His father said, startled at his son's sudden revelation, standing in front of him as he demanded answers, holding his shoulders so his offspring would have to look him in the eyes, but Light's eyes remained downcast.

"Dad, listen. Can you really dispute that I have seemed suspicious plenty of times? Other than that, why else would I continue to be a suspect after all this time? L's one of the world's best detectives, and if he's pretty set on the idea that I'm Kira—well, it's his word against mine, and his holds a lot more weight."

"But Light—"

"Dad, everything really has been revolving around me. The FBI agent that died shortly after investigating me, the fact that I was the first person Misa, the supposed second Kira, approached—is there really anyone else that could seem more suspicious? If I were L, I'd suspect me, too."

Light stared at his hands for a moment, seemingly contemplating the power he held in his hands before bringing them to his head, tilting his eyes towards the ceiling. "It all seems too coincidental not to be true. I know I don't have any memory or knowledge of being Kira, but what if I'm him subconsciously? I could be committing all of these terrible murders without even knowing it."

His eyes drifted back down to the ground, his hands hanging down at his sides, just the shell of a man defeated. "I'd never want to kill anyone, but who knows what I'm capable of subconsciously? I mean, lately I've been thinking that some criminals need to die—I can see Kira's side of things. If I can think like him, and I'm already a suspect, how can I be sure I'm not him?"

Destirome huffed as her ice blue eyes stared holes into the boy like icicles shot from a gun, causing everyone's attention to turn to her, startled a bit at the interruption of her silence as they still weren't used to her presence. She ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, ruffling the dark red tresses slightly with a thoughtful rub. "You're using every bit of evidence possible to make us think you really are Kira. Just a bit counterproductive for an 'innocent', no? I mean, really, using mindsets as proof? Many people sympathize and see the other side or can even agree with the other side, but that doesn't mean they are really _of _that side. You can agree with your enemies and still be against them. Even if you have been psychologically manipulating yourself into believing that you are Kira, isn't it a bit over the top to try to convince everyone else that's already been suspecting you with things they already knew or assumed? There's no completely new information that couldn't even be assumed in this little tirade to them, and you know it."

She bit down on the small sphere of lollipop still left, shattering its remnants like dropped glass, sucking on the shards thoughtfully as she nibbled on the stick. "It should have been just enough to convince yourself with all of this information that you are Kira, but now you feel the need to convince those that could do something awful to you if they decide you're right? If you've been Kira this whole time, even subconsciously, that part of you obviously fights to stay alive and keeps you under control effortlessly, considering you haven't had this revelation previously and that this seems too sudden and, as I stated before, overly-detailed. This whole thing is suicide to the Kira in you since you're just supporting the suspicions against you, giving these men every reason to do something to you—no, the Kira in you wouldn't let you say all of this unless it was hoping to get something out of this. Maybe a way to get rid of all of the suspicion is to go along with the crowd, hmm?"

The lollipop stick was tossed into the nearby trashcan, echoing a dull thud as it hit the bottom that held a surprising amount of resonance in the room. "After all, nobody suspects the guy that's trying to catch the bad guys, isn't that right, Light? So that's why you're part of the task force. It's all a matter of using people's preconceived notions against them. You'd expect a detective to be good and above crime since ironically he's the one that stops criminals, but because of that assumption that detective equals good, it's the perfect place for a criminal to hide, especially considering Kira hasn't been caught yet, coincidentally. That's all you'd have to do to stay above the radar typically, but you're against L and he still sees you as a suspect, and you can't stand it. So, you decide to agree and think that you may be guilty, going against the typical normal behavior of any person to confuse your opponents, because both innocent and guilty always fight to prove their innocence. They'll argue for their _innocence_, but it's not like they'll ever go to great lengths and tiny details to prove _their guilt_. It's like I said before—your Kira side wants something, and you're going against what people expect you to do in order to throw them off so they'll inadvertently give you what you want."

Destirome stood, uncomfortable with sitting for very long, stretching a bit in satisfaction as everyone processed her words, speechless for a moment at how thorough her analysis had been as they tried to find a way to respond. L, not phased or surprised in the slightest at how her mind worked, held out a piece of hard candy to her, which she gladly accepted. Green apple again. So this is how things would work. Speak what's on his mind, get treats. She could get used to this.

The two exchanged a look that held levels of understanding within a simple second, a mere solitary 'tick' of a clock. It was what Light wanted, but it was also a good opportunity that couldn't be wasted. After all, what else could they do right now? "Your points are as thorough as always," L almost looked like he was going to smile, looking up at nothing in thought as he nibbled on his thumb. "I'd like to have Light immediately fully restrained and placed into solitary confinement. Whether you are Kira or not will be made apparent in due time during this period."

Psychological warfare at its finest—not only would the solidarity be maddening, but the constant feeling of being caged and restrained would surely have a large impact as well. He would slowly be worn down in both mind and body until he lost his composure and spilled his secret, with no difficulty placed on L besides playing the waiting game. Or maybe Light would develop and change as some sort of spiritual and moral metamorphosis, becoming an enlightened Henry David Thoreau amidst his own twisted Walden Pond cabin, effectively stopping his desire to be Kira on his own accord. It all depended on how well Light would take this solitude and this bondage.

"Ryuzaki, this is absolutely crazy!" The chief fumed, stepping towards L as a challenge. "My son is not capable of being Kira and these extreme measures can't possibly be acceptable. You can't…"

"Dad, Ryuzaki has a point. This might be the best option. He could finally get his answer and the proof he needs, and I could too. I can't work on this case when I'm constantly wondering if I'm the suspect I've been looking for this whole time." Light shifted on his feet, a new resolve burning in his eyes. "Ryuzaki, promise me that you won't let me out until you are absolutely sure without a doubt that I'm not Kira, no matter what I say or what constitution I'm in."

"But son— "

"Mr. Yagami, if he is willing to go through this, I won't deny him a chance to prove himself. I will need you to come up with an excuse for Light's absence for his family, now, please." L interrupted nonchalantly, staring into his half-empty coffee cup.

The chief looked sullen as he stared blankly at the man before him, too angered and nervous, like he not only felt indignation at having his son accused, but like he was truly afraid of the answer that he would get from this experiment. "What should I say? This is too sudden, and he shouldn't be imprisoned like this—"

"Mr. Yagami, if I may," Destirome walked over to the distressed father, bowing her head slightly, trying to be comforting from a distance and distracting at the same time as Aizawa uneasily grabbed his handcuffs, walking towards Light. "I can suggest a few excuses that could be acceptable. And sir, we will try our best to make sure this whole ordeal isn't too debilitating on him. I can understand your concerns, but this small period of incarceration could be beneficial to you both. If he's not Kira, then he'll be let out after a few weeks or so completely cleared of suspicion, so that he and everyone else can be confident that he isn't Kira and we can work on the case knowing full well that Kira is not amongst us. Is that not better than working on this case for months carrying on like you have been, with the constant feeling of mistrust and accusation around here, a constant feeling of uncertainty and doubt?"

She tentatively put a hand on the man's shoulder, looking into his eyes with as much empathy as she could muster. "I know it's hard, but we're all here for you."

He turned to his son as the door opened, his heart visibly dropping as he gazed at Light, the handcuffs, and the blindfold as if he was already convicted. "Are you absolutely sure of this, Light?"

"If it means giving up my freedom to defeat this fear of Kira within me, yes." His voice was strong and confident. It would be interesting to see just how long that lasted.

"Aizawa, please take him away." L handed Destirome another hard candy, which she happily accepted, but just kept in her hand as she turned to watch the two men's backs disappear as the door shut behind them, echoing in the silent room with an empty resonance.

* * *

_I hope that when you read this, you've had a wonderful life and have made many close friends. I know you're probably confused and a bit panicked at all of this new information right now, but don't be afraid. You're still yourself, you haven't changed a bit. You've always been just the way you are, and you will always be._

_There is a lot that you'll have to learn on your own, especially about your existence and what laws you may have to abide by or can ignore. I regret not being able to tell you what you can and cannot do, but I simply don't know how much my Shinigami genes have affected you and in what ways._

_But I want you to know that no matter what, you just need to follow your instincts first. Don't worry about what you can or cannot do—you'll never know until you happen upon it. Until then, don't fret about it, it'll do no good to worry constantly about things that you can never be sure of until they happen. It's more important for you to make your own decisions, unafraid of the consequences. As long as you're happy._

_This road could be hard for you. There will be many unknowns, but you need to keep your head held high and face all adversity and confusion confidently. I'm always by your side, and so is your mother._

_Just do what makes you happy, is all I ask. I don't want you to get hurt, Destirome, but sometimes pain has to come before happiness. As long as you're smiling in the end._

_Just keep smiling._


	3. Memory

Hey, I'm actually getting ideas for where this story could go. xD I'm sorry if I take a little while to post any new chapters, I'm moving into my dorm soon. .-. I'll do my best, though! Next chapter should start deviating from the plot so I can stop boringly repeating events, at least.

* * *

For a moment, nobody moved. Everything seemed to stand still, the weight of the situation that had just transpired finking in. The mood of the room was suffocating like they were all being buried under the fragile relations of the task force that had practically no foundation of trust or compassion. The solid building of their determination crumbled and crushed them, as they all struggled to breathe around the questions and morals blocking their throats.

Then, as L turned on the large screen in front of him and as Aizawa came back into the room, life was slowly breathed into the still bodies, animating them as they shuffled and slowly began to dig themselves out of the rubble all around their minds.

Except for Destirome. She was crushed further, but not by the dissipating atmosphere of the room. It was as if she were a mouse, her tail stepped on by a cat's paw that held her in place, defenseless as its jaws opened and descended upon her, the sharp teeth ripping into her flesh, tearing every part of her being into unrecognizable remains. She was devoured by a sinking realization, and ultimately fear.

The screen held two images. Light and a woman. Both bound. Both incarcerated. Both looking sullen.

Both owning a Death Note.

The blonde girl was distastefully restrained and blinded even more so than Light, but there was no mistaking it—there were no numbers above her head. So there were two others, however unlikely it seemed for there to be so many Death Notes in one area. One of them had to have the eyes, and the way this girl's eyes were covered, it had to be her.

"Ryuzaki…" The chief stepped up, some sort of broken resolve dwelling in his eyes, snapping Destirome out of her near-panic. His eyes were trained on the screen, most likely staring at the hopeless image of his son, and the sight visibly sickened him to an unnaturally white pallor. "I would like to request that you take me off of this investigation." Outbursts of shock and curiosity came from the other two men, but Mr. Yagami continued. "I cannot keep efficiently working knowing my son is a prime suspect. My feelings are getting in the way and they will only be a burden on this case. I cannot remain unbiased and that will only hinder your progress. And…" He paused, looking downcast. "I don't know what I'd do if the task force concludes that he is Kira."

"I understand, emotional and parental attachments will not do us well. I would imagine your reaction to our conclusion if Light is Kira would surely involve murderous-suicidal rage against your son and yourself. I agree that it's in everyone's best interest if you do not continue on this case for the time being." L stared blankly at the slice of melon in front of him, previously abandoned when this whole situation began, now attracting his attention again.

"Ryuzaki, I ask that you confine me as well." Shock again spread through the air like a jolt of electricity; even Destirome looked at the father with a surprised yet calculating expression, trying to read his intentions. He looked broken, defeated, and most of all, in some sort of denial. "I'm calm now, but this has been taking too much of a toll on me. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Just watching my son be imprisoned every day…" His eyes trailed back to the screen, hurt lacing every depth in his eyes.

For a moment, Destirome wanted to reach out to comfort the inconsolable man, but really, what could she say in such a situation? There was so many conflicting and turbulent emotions within him that would be surely almost impossible to get rid of unless he got the future he wanted, where his son wasn't Kira and everything could go back to normal in his life. He saw the future as a monster, lurking in every possible place before him whether it was dark or not, deciding whether to devour him or to just torment him more—just as Destirome saw her future.

"I had anticipated this. Watari has already made arrangements." L speared a piece of the melon on the table with his fork, eating it carefully before speaking again. "Though you will keep your phone on and you will maintain regular contact with family and friends. You will allow everyone to believe you are still present at headquarters and we will keep you updated on the progression of this case. We will ensure your confinement is as comfortable as we can manage, it's the least we can do for you. Does this sound acceptable?"

"Yes. Thank you…" The chief murmured, his defeat and helplessness settling into all of the lines of his face, making him look older and frail. Destirome figured any amount of comfort would only glide off of him like rain on a windowpane. He was completely beyond any hope of feeling better quickly, and his only hope was a long period of torturously slow recovery.

"Matsuda, would you mind escorting Mr. Yagami?" L's eyes were focused on nothing in particular, deep in thought. With a small, silent nod, the two walked out the door, the sound of its closing again reverberating oddly in the room. It sent all the wrong vibes, like a screeching musical note rubbing against the note just above it, unsettling to everyone remaining.

Again time seemed to stand still, with no sound or motion penetrating the room. It was as if the sands of an hourglass suddenly froze in their inevitable descent, sparkling grains sending off an eerie glow that chilled the depths of every heart that dared to glance its way. Yet it hadn't lasted as long as before, the atmosphere no longer completely unsettling since it was becoming familiar as movement again began, even before Matsuda returned.

Destirome sat in the chair next to L again, her focus back on the girl on the screen, worry rising in her throat. "So, is this the second Kira?"

L nodded, gesturing vaguely to the screen as a third image appeared—the dejected image of Mr. Yagami. "Miss Misa Amane was recently detained like this and will remain this way until we get the information we need out of her."

"How did you come to find her and suspect her?" Destirome wondered, leaning forward to place her elbow on the arm of the chair, her thumb running along the point of one of her upper canine teeth.

"She's Light's girlfriend." Aizawa spoke up from behind, her eyes trailing to the side to find him lounging in a nearby sofa. So they were connected; there was no doubt in her mind that they were cooperating together. There shouldn't be too much trouble with this girl—as long as Destirome stayed out of her eyesight, she was safe. It wouldn't be too hard with her and Light confined.

The blood red-haired woman let out a small sound of acknowledgement as her mind wandered through all of the possibilities of what she needed to do. Somehow, she would have to clue L in on the existence of the Death Note, so he would better understand just how Kira killed, that way he could convict his prime suspects easier. Yet was that task really so easy? Was just simply showing him her Death Note the best idea? He would see what she was if he touched it. He would think she had been keeping secrets from him this whole time when most of the time she didn't even know this secret herself. He might even think of her as a monster, or think that she had used the Death Note. All of the trust and friendship that they had could crumble to microscopic dust particles if he took even one implication the wrong way, no matter how long he had been her friend.

She would have to be subtle, yet even suggesting something as outlandish as the existence of the Death Note seemed a bit suspicious in itself. It would require a cautious approach, and even though she had suggested some pretty unlikely ideas to L before that he had rejected, he might just believe in her theories this time—what other choice did he have? What else could explain these murders?

It was better to just let the events unfold rather than spending limitless hours attempting to predict them, however. Destirome shook her worries out of her mind as she turned her attention back to the two Kiras, wondering if this constant monitoring would really reveal something and solve the case easily.

It really didn't. The rest of the night progressed in an awkward atmosphere of waiting, the screens showing the same still images of sleeping figures for hours on end. Nobody in the room spoke except for the murmured farewells as Aizawa and Matsuda left to go home and sleep. Destirome shifted in the chair for about the millionth time in that hour, disrupting the pile of candy wrappers next to her that she had been eating out of boredom. Her hands kept playing with the blue rubber band around her wrist, desperate to entertain herself. She didn't know how L could possibly watch sleeping people so intently as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Ice blue trailed over to him, observing his hunched posture, the dark bags under his eyes, still ever alert for any change in his suspects—something clicked in her mind. "L," She spoke, yawning before continuing. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Destirome, I think that it's hardly necessary—"

"You know your overall alertness and deductive ability decreases approximately thirty percent per day you fail to sleep. By the second or third day you're hallucinating, aren't you? Besides, it's really unhealthy to stay awake for so long, your brain suffers along with your deteriorating health, you know." An effortless retaliation, rehearsed from years of fighting the man to sleep.

The corners of his pale lips upturned slightly as his eyes found hers, amused at her attempt to use facts to coerce him. "I think I could say the same thing to you."

A scoff left her pouting lips, meeting his eyes in a challenge. The mix of Shinigami in her human body didn't need sleep; she only needed a few hours and she felt completely rested. "Hey, do as I say, not as I do. At least my body can handle it; you're visibly suffering."

"Just because I can't manage to look as pretty as you doesn't mean I'm suffering, now, Rome." A hint of teasing flashed in his dull eyes, making her throw a candy wrapper at him as she made a noise of exasperation.

"You're sleeping tonight."

"Yes, mother."

"Ah, hush." Her lips pouted further, rolling her eyes at his comment. "Take a break and come with me for a moment, I need to take my contacts out." Her eyesight was actually quite bad despite her Shinigami eyes, and with the constant screen-staring the past few hours, her eyes were feeling dry and irritated. She stood, stretching luxuriously before she walked with pointed toes into her bedroom, opening her bag to rummage around for her contact case and her glasses case as L appeared in the doorway.

"See, stare at screens too long and you could end up with awful eyes like me." Small feet padded across the soft carpet as porcelain hands reached around the doorway to find the light switch of a warm, tan bathroom. The walls glowed like the soft fire of candlelight under the muted yellow light, giving the white linens a dim radiance. It was like the rays of a sunset bathing every corner of the landscape before it; even white and dull skin took on a shimmer of color and mystery.

"New glasses, hmm?"

The faucet ran as Destirome washed her hands, her standard blue and white contact case open and her dark, plastic-framed glasses lying beside it, water running across the blue rubber band on her left wrist. Her eyes trailed to the mirror, looking past her hair and her horns to L in the doorway, his face a bit conflicted. "Yeah, are you kidding?" A teasing smile traced across her lips as she reached to take out the first contact. "You think I could use my old ones after the way you mutilated them with a tennis ball?"

"Right…" A small smile brightened L's features as he wandered closer to inspect the new frames. "I really do apologize for that."

"Eh, it's fine. Not your fault I decided to return your serve with my face instead of my racket… and then stumble, have them fall from my face, and in my blindness and pain, step on them…" A light laugh drifted through the air as gentle hands unfolded the glasses, adjusting their fit on a pale face. "I kind of like these ones better, though, they just suit me. But anyway, we really should have another match against each other sometime. Provided you're not too out of shape." She threw a teasing sneer his way.

"Provided I don't cause the destruction of these glasses too?" He smirked over his shoulder as he walked back into the bedroom.

"Hey, I learned from that. That's why I got these babies." Destirome made a grand gesture to her contact case, following him as he went back into the main room and sat back down in front of the screen. A large sigh huffed out of a small body. "Oh no, you're sleeping tonight. Get back in that bedroom."

"But it's yours," He reasoned, about to reach for a hard candy until she gently took it from him, hiding it in her pocket as he visibly pouted.

"I can sleep on the couch. You haven't slept at all in days, and you haven't slept in a bed for probably weeks. Come on," Pale hand met pale hand as she led him to the bed, pulling back the soft, white covers and gesturing for him to get in.

"Rome…" He complained darkly, reluctantly complying as she covered him, his head only out of the covers as if he was an innocent child. With the way he was acting, always having to get his way, he might as well be one again. Yet since he was now a man, he had learned at least one thing—it was better to do what his best friend said than to risk her wrath.

Porcelain feet tiptoed over to the bags in the corner of the room—the sound of a zipper tore through the quiet and dark room, then more almost inaudible footsteps until it morphed into a bright musical chord.

"Destirome, did you really…?" L shifted in the bed to look behind him at the dark figure sitting in a chair near the window, the silhouette of an acoustic guitar sitting plainly in her lap.

"It used to put you to sleep before, so of course I brought it. Besides, it gives me something to do while I'm here." A porcelain thumb stroked absentmindedly down the steel strings, the sound reverberating gently through the room—he had always found it intriguing that she was left-handed. "I'll go to sleep once you're asleep, okay? Promise."

L said nothing as he shifted to a more comfortable position as soft music filled the room—was there ever a point in trying to argue with that woman? Still, despite her almost bossy nature, she really had only his best interest at heart, and he could at least appreciate that. She had always cared for him even when he found the notion of caring about himself to be pointless, and no matter how much he insisted that he didn't need anyone's help or attention, he had to admit to himself that he didn't mind so much if it was her.

She crossed so many of his barriers that he put up between himself and the world. And as he surely enough began to drift into sleep, the concrete blocks that was her musical spell dragging him under, he had to admit it.

He wouldn't have her any other way.


End file.
